


00:00

by taeminki



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Jeongin and Woojin aren't here (sorry), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 00:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14842221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taeminki/pseuds/taeminki
Summary: Jisung was known for always making the best out of what he had.





	00:00

**Author's Note:**

> soulmate!au in which everyone has the amount of time they'll spend with their soulmate on their wrist and it starts counting down when they meet

"I should have never let you talk me into going to high school." Jisung said, throwing his bag onto Changbin's couch. His knees hit the arm of the couch, and he let himself topple forward onto it. He had no care in the world that he was acting half his age; he was tired-- tired enough to mumble into the cushion instead of turning his head to talk properly, "I would have been perfectly fine being home-schooled for the rest of my life."

Changbin was amused at his boyfriend's antics, but didn't respond to them. Rather, he moved into the next room, his stomach pining for the kitchen. He opened his refrigerator and peered inside. He wasn't craving anything in particular, and took the question of food to Jisung, "What do you think we should have for a snack today, babe?"

"And, hyung, my _mother_ ," Jisung said instead of answering him. He shuffled into the kitchen, and draped himself over Changbin's back. His arms looped around the older's stomach with a wonder, "How ever did you talk her into letting me go to school?"

"She knows what spending time with you means to me." Changbin said, carefully turning in Jisung's arms. Jisung's head tilted to look at him, and with free access to Jisung's lips, Changbin kissed him. Jisung's mouth was set in a pout, his eyebrow set in upset. He told Changbin, after a still moment, "I hate talking about our time, hyung. You know that."

"I do. I'm sorry. What do you want to eat?" Changbin asked. Jisung leaned over his shoulder to look into the fridge, and Changbin pivoted enough that he, too, could see into it. Jisung's arm extended, his hands grabbing for a box of strawberries. It wasn't much, and the two of them would be hungry in a matter of minutes after finishing the box, but they enjoyed their rinsed strawberries until then.

"You have an essay to write, yeah?" Changbin asked, and Jisung nodded. He tapped on Jisung's thigh-- effectively signaling the boy to move off of him. Changbin went upstairs to gather his laptop; and, when he returned, Jisung had already set some pillows and blankets on the couch. Changbin handed him the laptop, and asked, "Topic?" and Jisung said, "Time," and Changbin nodded, "We know a lot about that."

"It doesn't _have_  to be time, though," Jisung said as he was starting up Changbin's laptop-- quickly typing in his password and finding an appropriate document to open up. He busied himself changing the font and page setup, telling Changbin about the assignment, "It's supposed to be about something personal to us-- from a factual point of view, though. I want to write about the effect of, ultimately, knowing yours-- or a loved one's-- fate on the mind -- because we didn't always have these timers. Right?"

"Right. I think it was-- I want to say three generations before ours that first started to have the timers. No one knows why it happened or why it _still_  happens, but scientists have been looking into it. They think it has something to do with the planets realigning-- though I have  _no idea_ what that has to do with _fate_." Changbin said. Jisung muttered, "Stars decide our fate, hyung-- and the planets dance around the stars," but most of it was far too mumbled for Changbin to hear--especially over the creak of the couch as he sat down, and the shuffle of his blanket as he wrapped it around his lap. Changbin anchored a palm against the couch next to Jisung's hip-- opposite to where his own hip touched-- and leaned his shoulder against Jisung's back as he dipped forward to see his laptop screen. Jisung had begun to type out a title to the paper-- _Timed Minds_ , and it was a working title but Changbin kind of liked it. He told Jisung, "I think we could do this paper off the tops of our heads."

"We know enough about time to do it." Jisung said, but his paper did need sources-- at least three, Jisung recalled. He looked to his wrist as a source, knowing he couldn't _actually_  use it; but the looming **ONE YEAR** caught his attention-- above all else-- and he couldn't stop looking at it. He looked at Changbin's, but his vision didn't change; his wrist read the same exact thing-- **ONE YEAR**  followed by **TWO MONTHS**  and **NINE DAYS**  and **ELEVEN HOURS**  and **THREE MINUTES**  and **FOURTEEN SECONDS**. Jisung mumbled about the numbers, "I can't believe time is a man-made structure, and it has this much of an effect on us."

"I'd rather not know, I think." Changbin said. He, too, traced the numbers; but he soon clasped a hand over Jisung's wrist, and with a turn of his own, the numbers were out of sight. Jisung looked up just in time to see Changbin's lips coming toward him, and he closed his eyes to accept the kiss. Changbin kissed him all over-- mouth, cheeks, eyes, nose, ears, lips again-- until Jisung was laughing, and pushing him away, and telling him, "I have to focus on my essay."

"You're going to get emotional if you write about time." Changbin thought to say, and Jisung shrugged, accidentally bumping Changbin's chin--though it went unnoticed by the writing boy, "You'll get emotional with me."

 

They were asleep by 8:45, having cried themselves out before Jisung was even halfway done-- good thing the paper wasn't due until Friday. Changbin's mother found them asleep together-- puffy eyes and tears track on their cheeks. The woman smiled softly at them, and softly tidied up their area-- shutting Changbin's laptop and disposing of the plastic strawberry bin. When he returned, Jisung had moved slightly-- always did, in his sleep. She covered the two boys with a blanket, and avoided looking at the time on their visible wrists. She hated it just as much as they did-- just as much as anyone did.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You _really_  want to get a tattoo?"

" _Hell no_. But this is sad," Felix said, holding up the bright, red, and bold 00:00 on his wrist. Jisung was almost glad he'd never have to see that, but he thought of the break of Changbin's heart when _he_  saw it, and he stopped thinking about it.

"Help me pick one?"

Jisung and Felix flipped through the book of tattoo art for twenty minutes, narrowing down the ones they did like and didn't like. Jisung suggested a heart, but Felix thought it might look too big and bulky on his wrist--and, besides, a heart symbolized love and that's exactly what Felix _didn't_  have. Jisung nudged him, and said, "I love you. Put a heart there-- and then tattoo my name across it. People will think _I'm_ your soulmate."

Felix scoffed softly, amused, "And what will Changbin say to that?"

"Well... he wouldn't be _completely_  jealous," Jisung said; but he wasn't serious, anyway, so the two of them didn't have to think about that. They wondered about a rose, but, again, Felix thought it might be too big and bulky. Multiple roses? but Felix wasn't much of a flower person anyway.

"What if I get a clown? Like-- the red spot can be his nose."

"Felix, I will never come near you again," Jisung had a horrible fear of clowns. It was all Felix's fault, really--he showed Jisung a movie, when the two of them were young, that involved some killer clown that went around sucking children into sewers and blowing balloons full of blood and Jisung had hated clowns from that point on. Felix bought him the original story-- in novel form-- for his birthday, once-- his fifteenth, "just to ruin your happy day," Felix had winked. (It turned out not to be much of a happy day, and Felix cried and told him "I'm so sorry-- I'm so-- I'll get you a real present, Jisung, I'm so sorry--" when he found out--but Jisung forgave him, and he had since forgive himself.) Jisung only kept the book because it didn't have any illustrations of clowns on the cover. He never read it.

"I really don't know what to get," Felix muttered, sighing heavily, flipping through the book at a speed too quick to study any of the art. He wasn't really looking anymore-- simply doing something absent-minded with his hands while he complained, "I hate that I'm limited to red. Well-- maybe I'm not-- but what if other colors don't really cover it, and I still see it? I mean-- I know it's there, but I'm hoping it won't bother me much if I can't see it."

"Out of sight, out of mind, right?" Jisung asked, and he knew that wasn't how it worked, but his attempt at playfulness lightened the mood, anyway. Jisung reached over to steal the book from Felix's antsy hands, and he flipped through it softly. Felix hummed a song in the meantime, looking at the art upside-down.

"What if you get the Australian flag?" Jisung asked. Felix hummed, considering it. Jisung suggested, "You could also get the Korean flag-- or the Japanese flag. That one's _real_ easy," and Felix laughed, and rejected the idea, because he wasn't Japanese and, really, he had nothing to do with Japan at all. Jisung continued to flip and turn the pages of the book-- "A hot air balloon? Or a _normal_  balloon--? actually, no. If it's _red_ , that's _way_  too much like that clown movie-- don't do that--" and Felix mentioned, "but it _isn't_  a clown," and Jisung threatened, "I'll seriously never come near you again," and Felix laughed.

"I think I will get the Korean flag," Felix said after some more consideration, looking at the position of his 00:00 and thinking the design might be pretty on his wrist. Jisung closed the book, and asked, "Yeah?" and Felix smiled, and nodded, "Yeah."

Jisung held Felix's hand as the needle was taken to Felix's wrist. Felix held his breath half the time, but refused to admit that it hurt him afterwards. He sang most of the time and talked loudly to Jisung-- covering up the loud noise of the needle's buzzing. He hated needles; it was far more obvious by the red and sweat of Jisung's hand when Felix _finally_  let go a block away from the tattoo shop.

"That was easy," Felix said, victorious and happy; and Jisung would have scoffed if it weren't for the way Felix was looking at his wrist-- wrapped in plastic but still visible. The flag looked pretty on his wrist-- the design of it fitting well on his skin, despite not having a completely white background. Jisung touched his shoulder, and smiled, "I'm glad you think so."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I hate this," Changbin said. Neither Hyunjin nor Felix was surprised to look up and see Changbin looking at his wrist. They could never speak to Changbin without losing his attention to his wrist. The two of them had tried to get him to tattoo the damn thing-- for his own mental wellness above their annoyance, but he refused--and he had too much memory for his time for him to just _forget_. Out of sight did _not_  equate to out of mind when it came to Changbin and his time.

"It goes away," Changbin said, and he left those words hanging in the air for a moment long enough that Felix had to look over at his wrist to wonder what he was talking about. As soon as he looked, he understood; and, as soon as he looked, Changbin spoke again, "I guess-- whatever you don't need, it goes away. My years are just-- gone. My time starts with months, and then it goes to days, and hours, and minutes, and seconds--"

"Changbin, you're driving everyone crazy--including yourself." Hyunjin said. Changbin looked at him, and sighed, his tense shoulders falling, "I know. I'm just-- _so_  angry. My years just _went away!_ Like I _really_ need fate to mock me any _more_."

"Would you really feel better if you just had _zero years_ looming at the top of your wrist, though?" Felix asked, pointing to where the _years_  would have been. Changbin looked at him, and supposed he wouldn't. He wouldn't feel better at all. He might feel worse. At least now, seeing the **ELEVEN MONTHS** at the top of his wrist, he might be able to fool his mind occasionally into seeing the **ELEVEN**  and fooling himself into thinking it was followed by years, which he was so used to reading first, instead of months.

Wouldn't that hurt a little more, though? --Who was he kidding? What _wouldn't_  hurt?

"I guess it would hurt either way." Changbin muttered. He dropped his head into his hands, "I just hate this. I hate time and I hate fate-- how could it take Jisung from me? Why couldn't it just change its mind? I'll love Jisung until I give out if it means I won't lose him."

Jisung happened back into the room from the bathroom at that moment, and that was the end. Changbin focused his attention on Jisung-- on dipping him against the bed and laughing softly, kissing his lips and his cheek as the younger boy giggled. Hyunjin and Felix looked at each other, and couldn't internalize the couple's joy; because Changbin's feelings were almost _too_  intense, and Changbin was too young to be thinking like that-- eighteen going on nineteen, and he was too young for this. He'd always been too young for this-- for four years, he'd been too young for this. He'd been worrying over Jisung since his fifteenth birthday; he's always been _too young_.

 

_"I think Jisung is my soulmate," Changbin said. Chan looked at him, a frown about his eyebrows. He asked, "What makes you say that?"_

_"My time is already counting down," Changbin said; and he was staring at his wrist, "I have just under five years left with my soulmate, and Jisung... is so sick, and I already love him, and-- I'm so scared, hyung. I think Jisung is my soulmate and if I really do lose him in four years--"_

_"You won't lose him. Something else could happen." Chan said. Changbin might feel comforted by that if Chan knew anything about soulmate-- but, looking at his blank wrist, Changbin knew he was just making something up in attempt to make Changbin feel better._

_Besides, Changbin had done his research. He knew, "When time runs out for soulmates, someone has to die. Soulmates running out of time and still being alive is unheard of-- even if they aren't together. I read a story of two women who loved each other so much that they tried to move apart the day before their time ran out-- but when one of them got on a plane, it crashed-- she died, and the time on the live one's wrist disappeared for two days, and it went to zero--"_

_"Don't think about it, then." Chan said. Changbin had heard that one before, "Jisung told me to get a tattoo to cover it, like everyone else, but-- I can't **not**  think about it, hyung. It's always going to be in my mind.... I calculated it, actually-- when, exactly, my soulmate is going to die."_

_"Changbin--"_

_"April 30th, 2018-- 5:32 in the morning. Fifteen seconds into the minute."_

_"Why would you do that to yourself?"_

_"It's Jisung. It **has**  to be Jisung." Changbin said. He looked at Chan, and he was crying, now. The numbers on his wrist didn't leave his mind, "I don't want to lose him."_

_"No one does, Changbin." Chan said. "But-- he's been sick all his life. We've **known**  he was going to pass early on-- it's just a matter of preparing ourselves, and **him** , for it. At least we know, now, that he has four years-- but-- who knows? He may not **be**  your soulmate-- he might live longer than that."_

_But Jisung's fifteenth birthday rolled around and his time moved at the same damning pace as Changbin's-- all the numbers matching, and everyone knew_.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jisung had been coughing when his vision started spotting. Changbin had been in the next room, and happened upon Jisung on the ground, coughing into his wrist. Changbin panicked, and called an ambulance-- and the black spots of Jisung's vision warped together, until everything was black, and Jisung was gone.

\--For three hours. He was gone-- _for three hours_ , and he woke up in the hospital, and his mother was sitting next to him, an open book in one hand, Jisung's palm in the other. Jisung stared at the book for a while, giving her no indication that he was awake until he said, "I hate that book."

She was reading that damned clown book. She looked up at Jisung, and smiled softly, "I know. But it makes me think of you."

"I don't know if I should be touched or offended."

"A little bit of both," she said. She leaned over to kiss his forehead. She set the book next to Jisung's thigh, and softly turned over his wrist. He still had nine months left. She brought the wrist to her mouth and kissed it.

"Changbin is worried about you," she said. She settled in bed next to Jisung-- not fully, but enough that he could hold her waist and lean against her shoulder. She pet his hair with steady hands; she was strong, Jisung thought. She'd always been strong-- his whole life, she _had_  to be strong. Jisung was born with some disease that inflamed his organs-- some "sarcoidosis" that Jisung could only remember in his mother's voice. It was chronic, for Jisung; and it resided in Jisung's heart and lungs; and it didn't _have_  to kill him, but if he got sick, he was screwed. Unfortunately, he'd recently come down with pneumonia-- Seungmin probably got him sick with it. Luckily, he'd lived. Unfortunately, again, he'd have to take a hell of a lot of medicine to make it go away-- and Jisung had no doubt, between his mother's experience and Changbin's worry, that he would be on bed rest for the next two weeks.

"They only want family in here, since you've had so many friends pop in to ask about you," the woman said; and Jisung looked up at her. Her smile had softened, but her eyebrow had quirked, and she wondered, "Do you want me to tell the receptionist that Changbin is your brother so they'll let him in here?"

"Yes," Jisung said immediately.

"That means you can't get caught kissing him-- else I'm in trouble."

"We won't get caught."

She kissed his forehead and sat to talk with him for a few minutes more before she left. Changbin came crashing through the doors not two minutes after Jisung's mother had left. He magneted to Jisung-- gathering him by the cheeks and kissing his unprepared mouth. Jisung licked his lips when Changbin let him go-- hugged him instead of kissing him, and told him, "The people here think we're related."

"I don't care." Changbin muttered. He pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed, and laughed a little as he cradled Jisung's hand against his cheek, "You scared me. I know we have nine months left-- _trust me_ \-- I've heard that from _everyone_  today, but you still scared me."

Changbin took a breath and a break from his words to kiss Jisung's hand, and continued, "I've been staring at my wrist for three hours wondering if the time was suddenly going to plummet. I almost had a heart attack when it froze-- it _froze_ , Jisung. Can you _believe_  fate is playing with us like that? It froze at twenty seconds or so and all of a sudden it was at three and I wasn't counting so I had _no idea_ if seventeen or so seconds had gone by-- I was _terrified_."

Jisung had no idea what to say except, "I'm okay."

Changbin laughed-- a breath of relief, a gentle grip of Jisung's cheeks, a kiss, "You _are_  okay."

"I'm sick." Jisung remembered, touching a finger to Changbin's bottom lip. Changbin rolled his eyes, and didn't care-- kissed Jisung again, "I'll take all your sickness."

"You don't _want_  all my sickness," Jisung muttered. His eyes were closed, enjoying the way Changbin held him, and kissed him-- all very brief and pretty, "It's gross, and it hurts sometimes-- and the medicine is gross, and I have to sleep regularly, which means I can't stay up watching all the shows I want to watch--it's not fun."

Jisung was saying it all in fun--it wasn't like he knew any other life, after all, but Changbin took it to heart-- with a little quirk of a smile across the corner of his lip, but it was still too serious-- _Changbin_  had been too serious lately, "If it meant you didn't have it anymore, baby, I'd take it all."

 _That's not how it works_ , Jisung thought, but Changbin knew that, and Jisung didn't need to say it-- so he initiated the kiss, this time, and let Changbin think how he wanted. This, after all, was how Changbin dealt with the stress of almost losing Jisung, and knowing that he really would soon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Let's go to my house today."

It was January. Snow was falling and that was far from a good idea, because Jisung's house was farther than Changbin's-- in an entirely different direction, and they were already on their way to Changbin's house. They had just stopped to grab something to eat-- after Jisung's "I skipped lunch to study," Changbin pulled him into a sandwich shop to buy something for him. Jisung whined, "I can't eat this much, hyung," so they split it, and they sat down to eat.

"Let's just go to mine. It's closer," Changbin said. Jisung looked at him, his eyes squinted. Changbin asked, "What?" and Jisung said, "I want to go to _my_  house. Don't tell me you're too lazy to walk there."

"I'm _not_. I'm just... worried about you," Changbin said honestly. He often tried to avoid underestimating Jisung's ability to overcome the awful state of his lungs, but time was closing in on them--barely three months more, the two of them were left with. He had been overbearing, lately, as he protected Jisung from every little thing-- hoping he could change the course of fate with a little tweak in the universe. He'd read every little thing he could about time and fate, desperately trying to change theirs--but all he could come up with were butterflies and their effect, and he hoped he could replicate the tiny quirks to cheat time.

It wasn't working, so far. Jisung wasn't so concerned with it-- "Hyung, I'm fine. I want to go to my house."

The last thing Changbin wanted to do was give up hope, throw in the towel-- but, more than that, he wasn't to make Jisung happy. He'd wanted to make Jisung happy all his life-- though he'd strayed a bit from that goal for a few months. (It wasn't until Minho slapped-- _punched_ \-- some sense into him that Changbin realized his time had been _wasted_  on research rather than _spent_  with Jisung; and Changbin regretted the six months he'd wasted away with no good results.)

"Okay, babe. We'll go to your house."

Jisung ended up on Changbin's back halfway through the walk-- not because he necessarily _wanted_  to be there, but because there was a little wheeze about his lungs as he struggled a bit to breathe-- the heat of his coat and the density of the air having a negative effect on his lungs. Changbin crouched, and let Jisung climb onto him; and he hiked the rest of the way to Jisung's house, softly singing so Jisung would laugh along, and forget to feel bad about weighing Changbin down.

"We arrive, my price, at your lovely castle," Changbin said, slowly dipping so Jisung could easily drop off of his back. Jisung scoffed at Changbin's words, and broke into soft laughter as Changbin stay on his knees-- one knee, with his head bent like a knight, or a servant. He pulled Changbin's arm, "Get up, idiot," but he was laughing, and his joy fed into their next, brief kiss.

"I have something for you," Jisung said when they were inside. Changbin raised an eyebrow, wondering. Jisung held up a finger, and disappeared into the hallway. Changbin listened to his steps; they stopped quickly once he'd entered the hallway. He must have gone into his room. Changbin sat while he was waiting, and managed to slip off his shoes before Jisung came back.

"I made it. Kind of. I bought it, and I cut it apart, and I glued and taped it all back together but I thought you might like it."

It was an hourglass. It was an hourglass with two Polaroid pictures-- one of which was visible, the other of which was just peeking out from the sand. They were each taped to the bottom-- so that, if Changbin were to turn the hourglass over, the pictures would slowly be buried with sand-- but Changbin would have time to look at each one of them right-side-up. The wooden base of the hourglass was decorated by fake flowers and leaves-- yellow and orange, Changbin's and Jisung's favorite colors. Changbin's hands were shaking when he reached out to received the gift.

It hurt. The gift took the breath from Changbin's lungs, but he was so grateful for it. He held out his hands for Jisung, and pulled him in. He kissed Jisung until they were both breathless, and cried until Jisung's soft laughter had asked him what was wrong and told him to stop crying enough times that he obeyed. In response to his question, Changbin said, "Nothing, baby, it's just-- a beautiful gift."

It wasn't. It was bittersweet, and it stung Changbin's heart, but Changbin still loved it. It was a piece of Jisung's heart, and it was a reminder that Jisung never stopped thinking about Changbin, or their time-- as much as he hated to talk about it. Really, it actually meant a lot. It just-- hurt.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I'm not scared," Jisung told no one except himself, looking at the numbers on his wrist. He had no more years, and no more months. He would run out of days by the beginning of next week, but "I've been in hospitals all my life. I've been told-- two more years-- one more month-- eight more months-- four years, six months, five days, thirty minutes, five seconds-- I'm not scared. I know my end. _I'm not scared_."

He was scared. He knew _damn_  well he was scared, but he couldn't be. He shouldn't be. Fate would always have its way, and Jisung was going to die, and that was that.

Jisung had a cold. It was minor, and Jisung didn't think he'd _die_  from it, but the ticking of his wrist was telling him otherwise. Jisung closed his eyes, and sighed. How was it that he'd caught every common lung disease known to man-- and it the _common cold_ that would kill him?

The weight of loneliness eventually caught up to Jisung, and he sat up, and he answered whoever it was that was calling him this time. He asked, "Hello?" and Felix told him, "Hey. Changbin's at my house-- bugging me about you again. Want to come over?" and he could hear Changbin in the background, yelling something unintelligible, and he could hear Felix laugh in response. He smiled; he loved his friends; he told Felix, "Okay," and he wrapped himself in warm clothes and set off to meet Felix and Changbin around the block.

Jisung stood outside for a moment, thinking. Where was he going to die? Where would he and Changbin spend their last night? Should he be at home? Should he be at Changbin's? He thought about his mother-- how he should be with her until nightfall, how he should coax her to sleep. Perhaps he could do that, and then he could sneak out with Changbin -- but did he want to do that? No. He didn't want to die with _anyone_ ; but he knew Changbin wouldn't let him die alone. Jisung didn't particularly want to die alone, either; but he didn't want to die _with_  anyone, and give them that burden of living while he slowly wasted away. It was a dilemma. It was hurting his head. He only had three days to figure it out.

Jisung didn't knock. He opened the door and kicked off his boots and he was scooped up immediately by Changbin-- before he even saw Changbin coming. He let out a little yelp as he was lifted from the ground by his hips, and he laughed through the kiss Changbin pressed to his lips--after, of course, dropping him back on the ground.

"I missed you," Changbin said. Jisung shook his head softly, "You saw me two days ago."

"Two days _too long_. How's your brother doing?" Changbin asked. Jisung shrugged, "Okay. He cried most of the time I was with him-- but he has some really great friends, and his girlfriend is beautiful. She promised me she'd take care of him-- and I don't trust many women, but I trust her."

Changbin laughed. It was nice to see him laughing recently. He'd come to terms with the fact that he couldn't change fate; this past year or so had dragged him through the five stages of grief before the grief even really came. Jisung liked that-- liked that Changbin was doing okay. He liked that Changbin was strong for him-- perhaps more for himself. It was making Jisung's heart slow its beating; it was making Jisung feel less scared.

"I made these little pizza rolls that are entirely destroyed but still very delicious," Felix said as he popped into the room-- just his head and his shoulders peeking around the corner. Changbin looked at him, and Jisung, "Oh yeah! Felix and I were trying to cook, because we were going to surprise you with lunch, but we found this recipe for mini pizza rolls and we abandoned our original idea. Sorry, baby-- but we're going to take you to get bubble tea after you try them."

Jisung felt like he wasn't in his own body as Changbin dragged him to the kitchen. He felt like he'd switched places with Changbin-- now _he_  was scared, while Changbin was just living. He felt like he'd spent too much time ignoring his limit to really accept that he had one. He regretted it; but he tried not to, because he was dying too soon for him to have regrets; but he couldn't _not_  regret it because he was _dying_  soon and he felt like he wasn't living right.

"Open your mouth, baby-- it's hot--" Changbin said. Jisung tuned back in, and parted his lips, and hissed a bit at the way it filled his mouth with heat. Changbin nibbled at his bottom lip, a bit worried, "I told you it was hot--" but Jisung laughed, and assured him, and "You didn't tell me it was _this_  hot," and Felix passed him a water, "Sorry, honey-- it _just_ came out of the oven," and that explained the heat of the room, but Jisung hadn't registered it until now.

"It _is_  really good," Jisung said after a short episode of him hissing over the heat and downing as much of the water as he struggling lungs would allow. Felix and Changbin both laughed, the worry that had weighted their shoulders falling off easily. Changbin kissed Jisung again, and Felix pat his back a few gentle times; and Jisung thought he might be scared, and fate might be closing a hand around his throat, but at least everyone else would continue living.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jisung woke with a knot in his back, and he whimpered as he tried to stretch it out. That's what he got for falling asleep on the couch, he supposed. He sat up, and turned his back to crack it. He whimpered a bit at the pain, but it went away after a few moments. He rubbed his eyes, and looked at the time. 7:28. He wasn't usually awake _this_  early without an alarm. He turned to the calendar, wondering. Every day was crossed off of April except for the last, and Jisung realized he wasn't _supposed_  to wake up at all.

A cold chill passed through his blood, and his stomach plummeted in shock. He turned his left wrist toward the ceiling, and saw the deadly 00:00 on his skin. He scrambled off of the couch, legs tangling up in his blanket. His knees smashed against the ground, his palms smacking the wood, as well. He didn't feel the pain; he fought off the blankets, and the numbing sensation that came over his palms, his knees. He ran down the hallway and burst into every room; Changbin didn't make an appearance. He stumbled through every room in the house-- Changbin's house-- calling Changbin's name, panicking because _I was supposed to die today_.

Jisung nearly slammed through the window in the living room when he pulled the curtains back to look out. His palms barely stopped the speed at which his body was moving; the glass barely managed to resist breaking. The sun was in the sky, and there was a breeze blowing wind through the trees. Everything was blurry, because Jisung's sight was blocked off by tears. His hands pressed to the glass and he felt oddly trapped, because there was such a beautiful world just outside his clear window, and such a beautiful day settling into the sky, and Jisung was _alive_  but he wasn't supposed to be.

Jisung looked around for his phone. He saw no messages to open. Changbin's phone was laying near the pillow, and he picked it up. He saw missed calls and text messages-- everyone asking him if he was okay, everyone telling him to call, everyone asking about Jisung. A sob tore at Jisung's throat. He wasn't supposed to be alive. He wasn't-- this didn't make sense. He was supposed to die. He and Changbin were out of time; _he_  was supposed to die. _It wasn't **supposed**  to be Changbin! It **never**  should have been Changbin!_

Jisung unlocked one of the phones, without minding whose it was. They had the same pass-code -- 043018; and his fingerprint was there but he was too shaky to press his thumb to it. Jisung called the first person he could. Felix picked up, with a "Changbin? We're so worried-- are you okay? Where are you?"

" _Felix!_ " Jisung sobbed, and the air went silent. It took Felix a moment to realize, but he stuttered-- "J-- _Jisung?!_ " and Jisung wailed, "Changbin's gone! I can't find him, Felix! Our-- our time is up and Changbin's _gone!_ "

"He-- Jisung-- _shit_." Felix said, his voice breaking. "You're at Changbin's, right? Yeah? Stay there. Stay right where you are, I'm coming over."

Jisung didn't have much of a choice, anyway. Changbin's phone clattered away from his hand when Felix hung up, and Jisung draped his body weakly over the coffee table as his sobs took over his body, as his heart pounded against his chest-- and the rest of his body was numb. He couldn't think and he couldn't breathe; he couldn't process this and he couldn't handle it. He didn't know what to do, or think, or say, and could barely get up to unlock the door when Felix arrived.

"Jisung-- shit. Okay, okay, it's okay--" Chan was there, too, and Jisung fell into him, his body weak at the knees. Chan caught him before he could crash to the ground, and Felix helped Chan get a limp Jisung into his arms. They moved to the couch, and sat Jisung down carefully. Jisung continued to sob, "I can't find him. He's not here-- I don't know where he went. I don't think he's alive-- he left his phone-- our time is up--!"

" _Breathe_." Chan whispered to him. Jisung tried. He tried but he _couldn't_  because Changbin was _gone_ , and there was _no way_ , but Jisung was _alive_ \--

"I'm going to call an ambulance if you don't take a breath," Chan said. Jisung held his breath for a moment, just to recollect himself. He took in a shaky breath, and it all came out after a few seconds in a sob, but Chan was satisfied with what Jisung had managed.

"He's gone," Jisung spoke before Chan or Felix could. It was nice to hear him talk-- breathe-- but it broke their hearts to hear him wail, "He's _gone_."

"Don't." Felix muttered softly, reaching to hold Jisung, " _Don't_."

He couldn't _not_. Changbin was _gone_. Jisung could hardly process it, yet it was hitting him so hard-- Changbin was gone. He was really gone. He must have been dead, because the red numbers on Jisung's wrist glared, and burned, and itched, but where was he? Jisung couldn't even imagine what had happened. He didn't think he wanted to know; but he needed closure, all the same.

"It's okay. You'll be okay."

Yes, Jisung _was_  okay; it was _Changbin_  who wasn't, and perhaps never _had been_ , okay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I know I said it didn't hurt, but it kind of does."

"I think I can handle it," Jisung muttered softly, trying to play a little smile at his lips. The 00:00 had been bothering him for _months_ ; and there was no way to get rid of it other than to take a needle to his wrist. Out of sight, out of mind-- and it didn't work like that, and Jisung knew it, but if he thought it enough, he might convince himself it was true.

"Want me to hold your hand?" Felix asked, and Jisung smiled, "Always."

Jisung got a balloon tattooed over his wrist-- and while it did remind him of that stupid movie and those stupid clowns, he wasn't scared. He wasn't scared of anything anymore. He had come _this_  close to death, and he had lost Changbin, and he didn't think there was a thing in the world that could break him down now.

"Now we don't know," Felix said when they left-- holding hands down the block, walking slowly. "We have no idea when our time is."

"I don't want to know," Jisung said, staring down at their wrists, "It was scary to _think_  I knew."

"I never knew how that felt," Felix said. He, too, was looking down at his wrist. It had been at 00:00 his whole life-- from age fifteen, maybe for forever. Felix had long since convinced himself that he never had a soulmate, because he didn't want to think about someone important to him dying before he even got a chance to know them, or comfort them-- but it was _Chan_  who didn't have a soulmate. He'd never had anything on his wrist, not even a 00:00. _That_  must hurt.

"I wish I would've had _any_  other soulmate," Jisung said, tears filtering into his eyes, "I wish _Changbin_  would have had any other soulmate. Fate-- fate really played us on that one."

" _Played_ \--" Felix scoffed impulsively. He stopped, and Jisung stopped, too. Felix was looking at him, and he had a sad smile about his mouth-- far from a side effect of laughing. He told Jisung, "Changbin told me something, before he died. He made me promise I'd take care of you. I thought that was really strange, because-- it wasn't supposed to be _him_. I asked him, _aren't you going to be around?_ and he just... looked at me for a minute, and was like _oh, yeah_. He said he had no idea what he was thinking, and it didn't _seem_ like he was lying."

Jisung quirked an eyebrow; he didn't quite understand. Felix rolled his eyes up against the tears, and breathed, "I think... I think Changbin knew _he_  was going to die, but-- like-- not consciously. He was never scared and he did everything to protect _you_ , but... I mean, that last few weeks-- he was really trying to live out the rest of his life, and he started being really affectionate with _everyone_ \-- and you-- you did the opposite. You shut down. You were sad all the time-- the only person you wanted to be around was Changbin-- you almost didn't say goodbye to Hyunjin, or Seungmin--"

"Stop." Jisung muttered softly. Felix did, and he quietly said, "I'm sorry."

But he was right. Fate had always had it out for Jisung and Changbin-- knew its twisted plan and didn't even let them consciously realize it, or prepare for it. Jisung cursed fate in his mind-- what a coward, to hide the game's rules from the player. What a sore loser--to always have to win.

What a _bastard_ , to break Jisung apart like that.

\--But Jisung was glad, in a way, that fate took Changbin -- just so he didn't have to feel (exactly) like _this_  after all he'd already felt, thinking Jisung was going to die. (He'd always been too young to feel like that; and maybe Jisung was, too, but he'd _always_ felt that loom of death. _He_ was used to it.)


End file.
